I am in LOVE with my breasts!
My breasts are small…tiny…affectionately called my pimples, though they aren’t THAT small even though they don’t have enough Oomph for cleavage. But they are mine, and because of their very size…and their perkiness…and their character…and their wear and tear after life and age and two children…they deserve some damn respect!
But that respect wasn’t always there. My breasts used to just be there…shameful in their small size, in their lack of cleavage as a woeful teenage me went to bed dreaming of size C’s and hating the small B’s that they were.
During my sexual awakening, my man ravenously declared that more than a mouthful was a waste and validated them for me, naked, in bed, satisfying his appetite, breathing new life into them through his desire and hunger.
During motherhood they became nurturers to my children, a food source that lived up to their utilitarian and biological role, ever so practical.
Respect had yet to arrive, and when not in bed or with a child at my bosom, my breasts were hidden away in nude-nondescript-plain-practical bras because what was the point of lingerie to begin with when all it served was the purpose of being ripped off to, well, satisfy my man? Why invest in that when I could be practical and invest in clothes instead?
Oh MAMA did life hold an answer for me when one night at an event with my wives (aka sistahs-from-a-networking-group-I-belong-to-aimed-at-supporting-&-promoting-&-nurturing-a-new-kind-of-sisterhood-that-is-at-its-core-all-about-our-unique-individual-selves-shining-loud-and-proud), our founding wife Christine Bronstein delivered me unto the eager hands of wives Geraldine Nuval and Miriam Carvalho who released the nude-plain-forlorn-non-supportive-&-worn-only-to-hide-the-nipple-dent-of-my-ferocious-nipples-on-my-clothes shackles I called “bra” off my neglected breasts and dragged complaining-topless-I-don’t-need-fancy-bras-because-after-all-they’re-under-clothes-so-what’s-the-point-leave-me-alone-LET-ME-GO-into their den and I was under their spell forever.
They measured me and analyzed my cup size and delighted in the itty-bitty-forlorn ladies with the Madonna-whore complex and dressed them up in lacy delights and, lo and behold, they gave me a never-before-experienced-by-me thing called a “silhouette” on my itty-bitty frame and with my itty-bitty breasts, and I was aghast and amazed and checking out my breasts I mouthed, “Oh! How YOU doin’?” at those delightfully fancy and uplifted, and OH how uplifted they were, powerful forces that they now were, and I touched them, OH how I touched them, and I wanted my wives to touch them, and I wanted the world to touch them because they are glorious, GLORIOUS, these breasts, MY breasts… “WE ARE BREASTS! HEAR US ROAR!” they needed-wanted-HAD to scream for all the world to hear and…
…and all of this because they were measured and outfitted properly? WHAT?
Years spent dressing the exterior and declaring an orgasmic Oh-MAMA-GIMMEGIMMEGIMME-I-need-must-I-WANT-oh-YEEEAH love for shoes and hats and bags and skirts and dresses and purses and tops and bottoms and this and that had not even come close to delivering the high that the simple act of fashion at its most rudimentary, outfitting my breasts, did! My BREASTS!
So go on world! Look at me as I sashay down my own private runway that is the world at large, head held high, arched back, chest out oh so proudly, and know that it has absolutely NOTHING to do with you and absolutely EVERYTHING to do with me and my passionate love for my perky-uplifted-sexy-delightful-deserving-kinky-beautiful-practical-nurturing-and-the-list-could-go-on-and-on-because-they-are-all-of-this-and-so-much-more breasts.
World, watch out! I am a newly empowered woman with love for ALL of me! *Le swoon*!
Writer, poet, model, actress, jewelry designer, Astanga Yoga Instructor, WOMAN! Leila Radan, a contributing columnist for Helium Magazine, shares what’s in her mind every week through hyper-hyphenated-swoons-and-ROARS. Learn more about Leila @ www.LeilaRadan.com
Disclaimer: Opinions held or expressed by contributing columnists are those of the individual and are not necessarily shared by Helium Magazine, its staff or affiliates. Helium Magazine is an open forum for the SFBA fashion community.